The Goblin Prince
by RavenOfFrost
Summary: Going through the ages of Jareth, the Goblin Prince, in his home of the Underground.
1. A Grieving Mother

**Labyrinth belongs Jim Henson. The unfamiliar characters belong to me.**

* * *

The torn, white blanket absorbed her teardrops as she softly wept into the bundle. "I wish…" the young woman whispered with an English accent, "the goblins would take you away." The shaky windows suddenly blew open and a barn owl flew into her apartment, making her turn away with her bundle held close. Once the wind calmed, she slowly turned and gasped at the sight of a creature about four feet tall with a main of brown hair and glowing, yellow eyes with a snout that was dog-like. His clothing was black armor with a cape draped behind. "The Goblin King," she whispered.

"You want this child from your hands?" he coldly growled without blinking.

Tears escaped. "I have no choice… I… I…" She roughly wiped her tears away and held out her baby with both hands. "Please. Please take care of him. I don't know what your world is like, but please care for him. I can no longer support him. I…" Her body felt weak and her baby felt heavier than he did a moment ago.

The King carefully took the infant, slowly removed the blanket from the child's face to look down at him.

The mother looked away from her sleeping baby.

"I will care for him," he gently said, earning her attention. "I promise this." He eyes were protective and solemn. A sight only a mother would hope to see on her child's guardian's face.

She covered her mouth with a trembling hand, nodding in relief.

The Goblin King turned away and disappeared as if he never was there.

The young mother fell to her knees and wept.


	2. Age 9: Crystals

Every _clink_ , his heart shook as he tried to focus on magic while trying not to slip while running down the stairs after a crystal ball. "Come back, you stupid thing," he grumbled under his breath as he jumped over the last step. As if the crystal was toying with him or had a mind of its own that hated him, it continued to roll down the hall. The boy was hot on its tail, until he ran into something someone and fell on the hard ground.

"You may be a prince," a scratchy voice snapped, "but watch where you're going, _Your Highness_."

The young prince looked up at a goblin warrior wearing old, iron armor who quickly pulled him to his feet. He had a mop of grey hair covering his ugly head with burning, green eyes.

"I thought for sure the King has told you about running inside the castle," he hissed, glaring up at the boy.

The blond human looked passed him and the crystal was out of sight, hoping it finally hit a wall or something. He looked back at the goblin with furrowed brows. "I am your prince, how dare you–"

"You're still a human," he spat.

The prince rushed passed the guard, trying to stay focused on finding the crystal and sure enough, it was beside a wall around the corner. Sighing, he picked it up, not bothering trying to use magic. He continued down the hall to the Throne Room where laughter and voices of goblins echoed. He meekly stepped into the room, finding the King on his simple throne with dozens of goblins partying in the center pit. Jareth nodded respectfully to the King, who kindly smiled back at him as he made his way to the stairs across the room. The boy felt heat rising in his blood as he stared at the hall, feeling hateful glares of the goblins around him. He knew they were doing it subtly. The King wouldn't notice. Once he was around the corner, he ran all the way to the corridor of the surreal stairs.

He sat down on the cold floor and gently rolled the crystal around, half trying to summon it to him when it would be out of reach, but would stretch for it either way. The King made it look too easy to summon the stupid things. He looked to his right to the edge where staircases were upside-down, on the walls, and nearly impossible to get to. The King told him he would only be able to walk on the impossible upside-down stairs once he has mastered magic. Yeah right. He's just a human after all! He threw the crystal over the edge and crossed his knees and arms. His short blond hair was in his unusual eyes of one grey and one blue with one permanently dialed pupil as he started at his black boots.

A sharp _clink_ perked his head up and the crystal rolled in his leg. He carefully picked up the flawless sphere.

"Jareth."

He rolled his eyes. "Of course it was you," he grumbled with a British accent.

"Magic comes with practice. You have been doing well with lessons."

"But outside of lessons I can't do anything!" He cried, flinging his pale hands in the air.

"Jareth," the King soothed as he approached the boy's side. "I know they are not used to you yet."

Jareth snapped his head away. "I've been here for fifty years. They hate the fact their prince is a human."

"They must learn to accept it and they will."

"Why me?" he choked, forcing himself to look at the larger goblin wearing a simple brown tunic and the golden, horn-shaped pendant around his neck. "Why choose me to be your heir?"

"I will tell you went you are ready."

"Is it that bad?" he whispered.

He knew about the tales of the King taking away unwanted children of those who wish them away. Some of those children are the ones who fight for their King now.

"No," he answered, gazing to the staircases. "It is not. Just… sad."

"Sad?"

"Jareth," he sighed with his rough hands behind his back. "Your mother… wanted you. She wanted to keep you, but she could not."

The boy stared, listening.

"I do not know why, but her tears were filled with… remorse." He slowly bowed his head, looking at him in the eyes. "She loved you, my boy."

"But… why me to be your heir?"

"I promised her I would keep you safe. You were the light of her life and it destroyed her that she could not keep you. I need an heir and I saw greatness in you."

Jareth looked in front of himself. "Would… the Queen agree with you?"

"She… would've been surprised," he smirked, "but I know she would have protected you as I do."

"I'm just a human…"

"No, Jareth, you are not." He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I cannot make them see it yet, but I _know_ you are not." He chuckled. "You may not dismiss crystals with magic yet, but instead of throwing them off edges, I know you will get better. Don't give up." He patted his shoulder, then returned to the throne.

Jareth looked at the simple crystal in his hand.


	3. Age 14: Death Whispers

Over the years, Jareth noticed distasteful murmurs of the human inevitably being the future king of the goblins was rippling through the castle with disgust. Murmurs that the King had lost his mind was running through. "Every time I see that boy, I want to put a knife across his throat." "What would the Queen say? She'd abandon the boy!" "He'll be poisoned before his sixteenth birthday." These whispers were everywhere. The young teenager looked out the window to the great Labyrinth as he threw on a black cloak and simply walked out of his room. It was a usual nightly rutine to get out of the castle and away from the dark whispers. When some guards and servants would see him, they would scowl at him and he would ignore them. Once in the Labyrinth, he wondered his special path, trying to avoid traps. Making lefts and rights, the Prince kept pressing through, until he heard footsteps coming to his position. He was going to continue until he heard:

"I have to admit: the Prince isn't so bad," a gruff voice commented. "I mean he was worse when he was younger, but now–"

"Seriously? A human. Ruling a goblin kingdom?" a scratchy voice scoffed.

"I know it's bad."

Jareth stayed hidden, listening in.

"A human. Ruling the Goblin Kingdom? It's ridiculous! I wonder if the King is mentally there, ya know?"

"Don't say that."

There was a pause.

"If he wanted an heir, he should've made him into a goblin or something," the first continued. "I know it's been years now, but the thought… I still don't like it."

Jareth slowly backed away from the hedge.

"He has plenty of enemies," the second began. "If he's a crappy king or something, we can kill him. King Tog will be dead at that point. Hell, I wouldn't mind if he died now."

The Prince's eyes widened.

"True."

The young boy quickly snuck away from the scene and hurried down the paths, not caring if anyone heard his steps. He'll just run away. Do they trully want him dead or was that only if he was a bad king? What happens if they don't trust him fully? He's heard harsh stories about the goblin's history. He knows about the death and destruction that they once caused. Will it be brought back? Will his own head roll? He wanted to return to warn the King, but he didn't want to start worrying him. He didn't want history to repeat itself. He–

"Jareth!"

He halted, nearly stumbling, and slowly turned around, locking gazes with the lion-like king. "I…."

"I saw you running in the crystal. I know you like your walks, but something is wrong."

Jareth stood up straight. "I refuse to become king," he strongly stated. "I will leave if I must."

The King placed his hands behind his back. "Where did that come from?"

His gaze lowered, wondering the same thing. "If I become a bad king I fear they will…" He looked away. "They already don't like me."

"Jareth," he sighed. "You will not be a bad king."

He looked at him. "Why did you do this to me? You could've made me another goblin, but instead you chose me to be your heir? What would your wife say?"

"I don't know," he heavily admitted.

"Then why me?"

A sad smile formed on the large goblin. "Because I saw greatness in you, son."

"No." He took a step back. "You were desperate! You needed an heir!"

"You know that." He took a breath. "I am not a… traditional king. I am… not cruel like my predecessors. I will no longer allow blood to run through the Goblin City's streets. If my father saw that I brought a human as my son, as the next king…" He turned his yellow gaze away. "He would have given you executed."

Jareth stepped back, whispering, "No…"

The King slowly looked back at him. "Humans are not meant to rule this kingdom. They are meant to be turned into goblins. Nothing more."

"That's why they hate me," he whispered. "They wish to see me dead and you knew?"

"What was I supposed to do? Tell a child that his own people would rather see his head roll than have him on a throne?" he snapped. "I brought peace to this kingdom and now I am losing their trust because of you. That's why I need– _you need_ – to prove them wrong. You need strength to keep your own kingdom to trust you!"

"Or they'll assassinate me?" he cried. "I hear guards talking about how if I am a bad king, they'll kill me and since you'll be dead at that point I won't have any left to trust! I hear plots of my murder! They are betting when I will breathe my last! I hear it every waking day!" Tears pricked at his eyes, never realizing how he was started to effect him.

The King pinched the bridge of his nose. "How could I be so blind?"

Jareth began to shake. "I've been trying to ignore it, but now I know why they hate me. They will do anything to keep a human off the throne. They'll kill me!"

He shook his head. "No. I won't allow it."

"Even after you're gone?" he choked. "You knew they would hate me… You knew. And you still took me in."

"Jareth. They won't kill you." He approached him and embraced him. "You will live to be king, my son. I promise."

The boy stared over his shoulder.

* * *

"Silence! This has been going on long enough!" The King boomed at the group of soliders and servants. "Prince Jareth will be your king whether you like it or not! If another speaks any words of ill of the Prince will be sentenced to death!"

The goblins frightfully began to look at one another.

"I have been patient but it is wearing thin! Hoping that all of you would accept him as our own, but I see that it is not happening!" He stared at his court without blinking. "When I pass he will be your king! Now, you are all dismissed!" He flopped on his throne, watching everyone slowly walk out of the throne room, pinching the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. He placed a hand over his mouth as his lightly coughed, then composed himself with a heavy exhale, covering his eyes.

"Your Highness?" a soft voice asked.

"I am losing their control, Altha," he groaned, not looking at the medicine woman. "I fear if they do not trust Jareth soon, he will be eventually poisoned or slain in his sleep. I don't know why I chose him to be my heir. I could've spared him a life of pain if I made him a goblin. Misery. Loneliness. He hears their whispers. I… ignored their whispers for too long. I don't know what to do. Nothing, but death and misery is in the Underground and I brought him here thinking I could take him in as my son. My wife… would be disgusted. I am a foolish, foolish old man, Altha, who just sentenced a boy to death."

"They will learn to love him, Sire."

"I can only hope," he whispered. "Time will tell. My own men want to see their own Prince's head roll. What will become of him in the future? I… am tired, Altha. So very tired."


	4. Age 15: Maven's Lung

**I know it's been awhile and I know I unexpectedly changed the previous chapter, but I realized I jumped ahead of myself with the order of events. This story was never abandoned, it was just on hold. Ok, back to the story!**

* * *

"Never give your opponent an opening," the King ordered as he slashed his sword forward, forcing the young Prince to step back, blocking the strikes. "If you do," he knocked the sword of Jareth's hand, pointing the tip at his face, "you die." He swished the blade aside, stepping back. "Pick up your weapon."

Silently, the teenager obeyed and looked back at the King with an arched brow. "Certainly there might be a time where you will know when to surrender?" he wondered.

A yellow gaze stared deeply into him. "Only if you have to and if, for whatever happens, you do lose in battle, die with honor. Know that you died with honor. It may… make things easier. Honor."

Jareth nodded, putting those words into memory.

"Now." The large goblin readied his stance as a professional fencer. "Again."

He prepared himself with his left hand curled up for balance.

The two began to slash at each other, but the King always bested the apprentice. The Prince had agility, but the King had speed and sharpness. He knew not to hesitate and many times had an opening to kill if it was a true duel.

After an hour of winning, the King laughed. "You'll beat me eventua–" He hunched over and began coughing.

Jareth dropped the sword and hurried to the King's side, placing a hand over his back when he did not cease. "Your Highness?" he frightfully asked.

The King waved a large hand and within a moment, he stood up straight, deeply inhaling, trying to compose him with watering eyes.

"Are you alright?" Jareth asked with large eyes. "What happened?"

"Nothing," he smiled with glassy eyes. "Lessons are over for today." He handed him his sword. "Be a good lad and put this away for me, please."

He took the sword, watching the King walk to the large doors of the castle. When he was gone, the Prince hurried to put the swords away in the armory behind him across the courtyard. Once done, he jogged to the throne room, but it was empty. He turned around and went down the corridors to the a small, wooden door of the alchemy room and heard voices of the healer and the King, but couldn't make out what they were saying. He knew it wasn't good. He leaned against the wall by the door with crossed arms. The King was ill. He knew that much.

Within a minute, the door opened to the King and the two made eye contact.

The Goblin King heavily sighed. "Walk with me, son." He took the lead to the throne room.

Jareth silently followed.

They went through the throne room to the other staircase that spiral up and opened to the top of the maze of staircases.

The King walked to the edge, waved a hand, and summoned a crystal ball in his furry fingers with an amused chuckle. "I remember you used to come here all the time when you were younger. Now you wonder through the Labyrinth as if trying to memorize it." He tossed him the crystal with a smile. "You've grown to a fine young man. You're not a boy anymore." It was like he was telling himself that more that to Jareth.

The Prince caught the crystal with one hand and brought it close to his thin chest, listening.

"You're getting better with the crystals," he mused.

"You're ill," he stated without taking his multi-colored gaze off the crystal.

"I am," he heavily admitted. "The same illness that took my wife decades ago," he lamely chuckled. "Can you believe it?" He returned to the wonder of the staircases. "Gods, she would be proud of you. I know she would. She would trust you like I do."

"How long?" he quietly asked with a heavy heart.

"Four years at least. It's a lung disease that goblins tend to get when they get older. It's called Maven's Lung. Eventually, the lungs will cease to inhale. It is… inevitable. Even with medicine."

Jareth dropped the crystal ball with a sharp _click_ and his chin fell to his chest. His chin-length, blond hair covered his eyes and he hoped his tears if he could not fight them.

"Son," the King strongly said, approaching him. "I didn't know how I was going to tell you this. Symptoms started to show six months ago. Altha is trying her best–"

"You're going to die," he whispered.

"Jareth." He went to place a firm hand on the boy's shoulder, but only reached to his elbow. He sadly chuckled. "It felt like yesterday you were my height. Now you're almost six feet, it seems like." He patted his arm and slowly withdrew his hand. "Don't worry about me, son."

The boy forced himself to look at the King and his heart was in his sad, loving, yellow eyes. His black mane was still healthy like a lion's as his black robes glimmered with silver lining. He looked healthy, but his lungs were slowly killing him.

"I can't… fence like I used to," the Goblin King continued. "I can still teach you, but not like before." He hopefully smiled. "I'm not going to go any time soon."

He deeply inhaled, trying to shake the grim cloud away. "Just in four years," he murmured. He quickly and silently threw his thin arms around the King's neck, fighting the tears that on the brink of escaping and his throat began to tighten from forcing back a choke.

The King carefully and firmly hugged him back. "I love you, son," he whispered. "And I am so proud of you."

The Prince closed his eyes tight as if it was a bad dream.


	5. Age 16: An Arrangement

The young Prince walked down the corridors and stepped into the throne room to find the King at his throne at late morning. "You summoned me?" Jareth asked as he approached the King.

He slowly turned his yellow eyes onto the boy and rose to his feet at his full height of four feet. "My son." There was a sense of sadness in his tone and eyes. "I... do not know how to tell you this."

The Prince's heart dropped, fearful the King's health has worsened. "What is it?"

"Remember how I was gone last week?"

He slowly calmed his thoughts. "Yes."

"I went to the Elven Kingdom."

Jareth knew about the Elven Kingdom. The two kingdoms did not see eye to eye and the elves were known for being ruthless, but they left the goblins alone. He waited for his King to continue, hoping that there was not going to be a war or anything terrible like that. His health would not be able to handle it! Did they know he was ill and would try to use that as an anvatage?

"King Veldon and I have came to an agreement: you and Princess Nalth are to be wedded when you are eighteen."

Jareth stared at him. He never even met the Princess himself! "That's obsurd!" he cried, stepping back. "You can't do this! I refuse!"

"Jareth. I know, but this will strengthen our kingdoms and I'm sure you will fall in love. It can happen."

He stared at him, trying to wrap his sixteen year old human mind around the fact. Not able to say anything, he turned around and briscily left of the throne room.

"He wants me to marry the Elven Princess! How could he- why could he!" He stopped pacing and snapped his gaze to the alchemist.

The blue-skinned healer stared at him with gentle eyes. Her long black hair was covered with a red scarf as she wore a matching dress. "I'm sorry it has to come to this, Jareth, but there is nothing anyone besides the King can do about it."

"I can call off the wedding! I have that right!"

The three-foot she-goblin sighed, stepping up the tall human who was the height of a man now. "Jareth. You have to be king to do that."

"I'll..." he looked away, "figure it out." With that, he opened the wooden door and left the healer.

Word had quickly gotten out about the betrothal and unhappy murmurs flittered through the castle's halls. The King had been back for three days already and now he tells him. He was probably thinking of how to word it. The Prince stormed to his own room, pacing, trying to think of what to do. What could he do? He was just a prince! Now, he was going to marry a girl he never even met in three years! He never even wanted to be king! He never even wanted to be a prince! He just wanted to be a human! Now what were the goblins going to say? They were already looking for a reason to have him assassinated and now their future human king is going to marry an elven princess! That's madness!

He sat on his grand bed, trying to think. Was he even going to meet her at all before then? Was she going to nice? Was she going sweet or rude like a spoiled princess? He wanted to tear his hair out. First his father was dying-

Father?

He covered his face with his hands. It was true. King Tog was his father and not even once has he called him such a thing. The King always called him son, but why hasn't he returned the feelings even though it was true. The King was his father and he was dying and now, he was going to be king in only a couple of years times and with a queen. Things were happening too fast! Would he even have time to mourn? This wedding needed to be called off!

* * *

The sky was darkening as Jareth stood at the window in the throne room, overlooking the Labyrinth. The history of if all is lost. It's so old that it is forgotten in goblin history. They say the very first goblins that arrived here wanted some form of protection and so they build the trap-riddled Labyrinth and found a horrible-smelling bog and worked around it as a menacing trap, rightfully calling it the Bog of External Stench. All of this was going to be his much sooner than expected. The young man's heart sank into his thin chest. He was not ready for anything.

He was not ready to be king. He was not ready to be married. He was not ready to lose his father.

Tears burned as they welled up in his mismatched eyes and his chest tightened. His chin fell to his chest and placed a hand over his eyes as he softly wept.

"I have heard many things in these hall," a soft voice spoke, "and tears and pain are unfamiliar to me."

Jareth roughly wiped the tears away with his white sleeve. "I'm fine, Altha."

"No, my Prince, you are not." The woman's quietly approached him and joined him at the window. "Many things are happening in your life all at once and the worst of them all is the illness of the King. Your father."

Jareth sniffled. "I know there's no cure for him, but I just can't stand aside and–"

"That is exactly how he felt when his wife was dying."

"I will feel so lost without him," he choked.

"I know you will," the blue she-goblin sadly murmured.

"What if I disappoint him?"

"Impossible," she chuckled. "You will rise to be the best king you will be. The goblins are easy to handle. The Goblin Kingdom is easy to rule. You will be fine."

He stared out at the window. "There will be assassination attempts," he emotionless stated.

"I doubt it. There may be talk, but when you will be king, they will have no choice, but to accept it. There won't be any heirs at the time and they would doomed themselves. As for the wedding, well, I wouldn't worry about it until you meet the Princess." She warmly smiled at him, placed a soft hand on his arm.

Jareth turned his gaze to her.

Altha's yellow eyes were gentle and promising. "You will not be alone, my Prince." She gave him a final pat, then returned the way she came.

The Prince looked back out the window, seeing his reflection staring back at him in the torch's light behind.


	6. Age 16: A Ruthless Princess

Jareth deeply inhaled, staring at himself in the mirror. His blond hair was now to his shoulders and pulled back in a loose ponytail. His clothes were a simply black suit and his mismatched eyes were reflecting nervousness. The first dinner party of elves and goblins in Underground history. The first meeting of his fiancée.

A knock interupted his thoughts. "Your Highness? It's time."

The Prince released a breath, then briskly walked out of the room passed the servant. He headed for the nearby steps and walked to the top floor, down a hall to a pair of large, closed double doors. He took another breath as they opened to a grand ball room filed with goblins and elves. Everyone's eyes were on him as he went straight to the young elven princess. Her skin was a purple-grey with bright yellow eyes. Her dess was a lovely crimson with silver embrodery. He gently took her hand and bowed as his carefully kissed it. "Princess Nalth. It is an honor to meet you at last." He stood up straight to the blushing bride-to-be.

"The pleasure is mine," she lightly giggled.

King Tog joined them with smile on his muzzle. "It is a true honor to have the two kingdoms come together. The wedding between Prince Jareth and Princess Nalth will be beautiful to come. It may be in two years, but," he chuckled, "it is a true celebration and a wonderful way for the bride and groom to meet." He smiled at the future couple.

Jareth adverted his gaze.

"King Tog."

"King Varren and Queen Halla!" The Goblin King boomed with a chuckle; his deep voice was wheezy.

The King was a tall, proud elf with long, black hair pulled back in a loose ponytail joined them with a smile on his purple-grey face and red eyes twinkling. His suit was a dashing black. His Queen had long crimson hair that was in a lovely undo in a stunning dark-green dress. He turned to the Prince. "Prince Jareth. Pleasure."

The Prince bowed. "An honor to meet you, Your Highness."

"No need for formalities. You are engaged to our daughter, after all. You are... much taller than I thought."

"My we have never met a human before," the Queen giggled.

Jareth smiled. "Well, I certainly never met elves before so this is new to both of us."

The Goblin King chuckled. "Indeed, indeed." He began to cough, making him cover his mouth and turn away, then patted his chest as he composed himself. "Excuse me."

Jareth felt his heart kick up the pace. The coughing has been making him more nervous over the months.

* * *

"You're a wonderful dancer," Princess Nalth commented with a smile, but her yellow eyes were deceitful.

"Thank you," he coolly replied as they young couple danced along with others.

"I heard your father's ill," she frowned. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," he said, staring the Elven Princess in the eyes. "We both know why this marriage is happening."

"Because _your_ kingdom is in our need." She was smiling. "Honestly, when I heard that you were a human, I was thrilled that my parents were not giving me away to a disgusting goblin. How can you stand it here? Honestly, if I was raised by goblins, I'd kill myself!" She giggled. "At least you're cute. Also, I am sorry your King is ill. He did raise after all instead of turning you into a goblin. I know the stories."

"It's not all bad," he commented, ignoring her statements. "Besides there is the fact that they wouldn't mind seeing me dead over me being on the throne." He dipped her without taking his eyes off her own.

"Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Have you been threatened?"

"Not yet. Just rumors." He brought her back up as they continued to waltz.

She fell silent, but he could see her mind pondering.

"Thoughts?"

She smiled innocently. "Not at all."

He wanted to call her out of her lies.

"But just imagine," Nalth began, wondrously. "When our kingdoms become one, we will be a kingdom that everyone would fear!"

He hummed.

"I would be the most feared queen in all of the Underground!" Her eyes were sparkling as she looked away, then she snapped her gaze back to him with a soft giggle. "With you as my king, of course."

Jareth forced a smile. "Of course. Anything other plans for… our future?"

She contorted her face, trying to think. "Not really, no."

"Just being a fierce queen?"

"Of course!"

The Prince wanted to walk away. He frowned. "What will I be to you beside your husband?"

"My…husband?" she slowly answered as if it was dumb question.

"We both know you will use me till my dying breath," he cruelly hissed without breaking their gaze.

Her mouth dropped. "How dare–"

He leaned closer to her. "Admit it."

The Princess stared with her mouth agape, trying to think of a lie, then she finally responded with: "I will love you, Jareth. I will be the best wife–"

"Lies."

"It's an arranged marriage of monarchy," she spat. "Of course we're after something. Your kingdom needs mine as a source of power and I need a king to make more decisions, so if you have a problem, there's nothing that can be done it."

Jareth's heart sank into his gut. "You'd just admit that?"

"You wanted me to!"

* * *

"She admitted that I will be nothing to her!" He yelled at the Goblin King the night after the party. "She admitted that she will just using me for power!"

"Jareth," he croaked in his throne. "Love is funny. It may bloom."

"No! She is planning this from the start! You told me they are a ruthless people!"

"I wouldn't be surprised if she'll plan to kill him after the wedding," Altha murmured at his side.

He looked at the healer and spat, "Thanks for that. Why does everyone want to kill me? Is there some prize for my murder!"

"Altha," the King murmured, looking at the woman. "You're not helping."

The healer threw her hands in the air and walked away.

Jareth desperately approached his King. "Please, father, I beg of you! Call of the wedding! Please! She'll ruin me!"

The king waved him off without looking at him.

"She won't care about me!"

He began to cough, covering his mouth with a hand.

"She'll use me!" Tears pricked his eyes. "I can't marry a woman like her! Please, don't do this to me!"

The coughing wouldn't stop, causing him to wheeze for breath.

"Father? Altha!" He snapped his head to the hall. "Altha hurry, please!"


	7. Age 16: Long Live the King

"The Maven's Lung is… quicker than expected."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Altha sighed, dropping her soulful gaze, then looked back up at the taller Prince. "He only has days. If even. I have done all I could, but his lungs are... deteriorating too quick. I have made him more… comfortable." The healer softly shook her head as she heavily walked away.

Jareth looked at the closed, wooden door at his left and softly knocked on it, then slowly opened it. "Father?"

Wheezing was the response.

He quietly entered the bedroom, closed the door behind, and approached the four-posted bed where the large Goblin King laid amongst crimson pillows and blankets.

Dull, yellow eyes turned to him. "Jareth," a wheeze whispered.

The Prince hurried to his father's side. "I'm here."

The King weakly moved brown his hand, trying to tug at his collar. Frustrated, he grabbed the necklace and yanked it off his neck. "You," he rasped, "will be king… quicker than expected." He coughed as he held out a golden necklace with an amulet that looked like horns pointing down in almost a semicircle. "This… is a symbol… of the Goblin King. Passed down… through my… family. It… is yours...Son."

Jareth carefully took the necklace in his hands, looking at his King. "But you're not gone yet," he croaked. "You should–"

He chuckled with a sad smile on his lion-like muzzle. "My son… you will be a fine king… and… you were right… about Nalth." He frowned. "It was a death sentence for you to be in a love…less marriage... Forgive me."

All he could do was nod.

"Call… off the arrangement."

The Prince nodded with a sad smile as the King chcukled.

The party was almost a month ago now and Altha had told the Prince that he had guilt about the arrangement. It was nice that he finally admitted to him about it.

"Shall I read to you like you used to read to me?" Jareth offered.

The King smiled. "If you… wish, my son."

"I'll be right back." He hurried out of the room to his own room down the hall. He opened the door and went straight to a bookshelf of a small, old collection of books. He grabbed a fantasy one, then went to his nightstand, carefully slipped the necklace inside the drawer, then hurried out with the door closed behind.

* * *

"You need… sleep, my son."

Jareth was sitting in an armchair close by with his legs stretched out, still dressed in his loose shirt and tight pants. "I'm fine," he drowsily murmured.

His King's yellow eyes was glimmering in the moon's light out the window. "Jareth. Go… to your room."

"I will not."

A low hum rumbled with a wheeze. "You… were always stubborn."

His heart tightened. "I don't want to leave you alone. You're my father. I love you."

"I love you… too, Jareth."

Jareth closed his eyes and every time it seemed like the King stopped wheezing, he would instantly wake up until the sleeping King breathed again. About three times he woke up to check on his father and to get comfortable in the chair. Curled up in a ball on the chair, the Prince woke up to change positions, then his head perked, staring at the King. Something was wrong. He got up and approached the silent, dark mass in the bed. He placed his hand his the shoulder and drew back in fright. Tears blurred his vision. "Altha. Altha!" He ran out of the room, down the hall three doors down. "Altha!"

The door opened to an alarmed medicine woman in a white nightgown with large yellow eyes.

"The King is dead!" he sobbed before she could get a word in.

* * *

Jareth stared at the fire that swallowed King Tog's body in the courtyard, bringing his ashes to the skies above where his Queen was waiting for him. His suffering was over. King Tog's memory will live on as the first Goblin King be a proud, gentle, and powerful king, who spared the life of a human boy. At the end of the burning, the Prince marched to the throne room as the goblins of the Goblin City were waiting for him. They murmured in awe and some in disgust as the golden amulet hung around his neck. His mismatched eyes were locked on the throne with a heavy heart as he approached, turned around, looked at the them all as Altha was standing close to the front.

"I know it displeases some of you to see a human on the throne," he spat, scanning the room. "But I can assure you that you will not have an Elven Queen on the throne. Tonight, I shall write a letter to the Elven Kingdom and end this arrangement!"

There were hushed sighs of relief.

He sat down upon the throne, crossed his legs, placed his fingertips together, and murmured, "That will be the first thing to do in my rule."

"Long live the King!" Altha cried, thrusting a fist in the air.

"Long live the King!" The rest of the goblins hollered and they all went down to a knee.


End file.
